Category Archives: Horror Fiction

The Hobgoblin of Little Minds by Mark Matthews

NetGalley and the publishers provided me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

The first thing — the very first thing — that struck me about The Hobgoblin of Little Minds, before I even started reading it, before I even looked at the cover or researched the author Mark Matthews, was its title. The phrase is mentioned quite a few times in the text, and it is by no means a throwaway title. It means something to every character in this engrossing horror novel. It was coined by the poet, essayist, and philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson, taken from his 1841 essay Self Reliance. In it, Emerson states that “foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines.” A quick search on the internet explains this in layman’s terms for me: basically saying that just because you’ve thought the same thing for most of your life, or performed the same actions, it doesn’t absolve you of the importance of critical thinking, and the necessity of changing your mind and opinion when better information comes to light. (Sounds like a lot of politicians could use this advice here, but we won’t go there.)

Emerson’s metaphor takes on new life (literally) during the course of this novel. Told in a somewhat non-linear way, beginning in 2002 and ending in 2018, The Hobgoblin of Little Minds centres around five main characters. Kori Persephone Driscoe, who’s father Peter has been in and out of psychiatric institutions, serves as our introduction to Mr Matthew’s insane and dangerous world. Kori’s mother is about to hightail it out of Detroit and set up home with her new partner in Florida. Kori doesn’t want to go, and instead visits the hospital where she last saw her father. Anyone from Detroit will be familiar with Northville Psychiatric Hospital in Northville Township,Wayne County, and former Governer Engler’s closure of the hospital for economic reasons. Patients and staff were moved on elsewhere. Kori visits the abandoned building, already the subject of blogs and videos which suggest it’s haunted, and finds that nothing is what it seems anymore.

Peter has been the subject of genetic medical experiments by his doctor, the mysterious Dr Ziti. She is an expert in mental illness, and because of her own family trauma as well as a God Complex, she invents a pharmaceutical that she hopes will harness Peter’s bipolar disorder into something she can use. Basically she Dr Frankenstein, Psychiatrist. But Peter isn’t her first attempt at harnessing this disorder. Her previous failed attempts are chained up in the tunnels under the hospital, and when Kori finds them and her father, the narrative takes a number of strange and disturbing detours.

Maya, a Black woman, traumatised by her mother’s suicide, and subjected to heinous treatment by her local pastor, lands on Dr Ziti’s doorstep, and is partnered up with Peter in a bizzare and horrifying experiment; the result of which is the book’s fifth character, whom I will leave for you to find out more about. I’ve gone far enough into spoilery territory, and wish to go no further.

Mark Matthews

Over the last few years or so, there has been a plethora of vampire and zombie novels, movies, and television shows, but few if any on what we call werewolves. I want to point out that Mr Matthew’s monsters aren’t classic werewolves in the Lon Chaney, jr. vein; they are their own creation, but follow similar patterns of behaviour. The Hobgoblin of Little Minds is as much about how mental illness affects the families of those who endure bipolar disorder as it is about the victims of this illness themselves. Dr Ziti sees that classic attempts to treat sufferers of bipolar disorder don’t work anymore and that it’s time for something new, something extreme. She sees the foolish consistencies of those in the field who preceeded her. But she has an agenda of her own, a deeply personal one.

The Hobgoblins of Little Minds is at times a violent novel. There is one scene that literally had me crossing my legs, but the victim in question deserved their end. Hat’s off to the author, though, who had me enthralled from the first page, and I finished the novel over two nights. (This is a book to read in the dark, trust me.) It’s the terrifying offspring of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and H.G. Well’s The Island of Doctor Moreau. It also raises questions on medical ethics, and how it can be that sometimes the people we trust to help us won’t always have our best interests in mind: which is something equally as terror-inducing as anything you’ll read in these pages.

Northville Psychiatric Hospital: source

It’s worth reading the author’s Afterword at the end of the book. Mark Matthews offers us his experience in the field of mental illness and treatment and how he came about to write his book. I found this very informative. If you want to learn more about Northville Psychiatric Hospital, you can check out the links here and here.

Ring Shout by P. Djèlí Clark

P. Djèlí Clark is an author I’m reasonably familiar with. Every now and again I like to read novellas, and because my chosen genre within this format is invariably horror, science fiction, and fantasy, I always find I’ve a lot of titles to choose from. By far my most favourite novella is Victor LaValle’s The Ballad of Black Tom, his revisionist and masterful retelling of HP Lovecraft’s short story The Horror at Red Rock. Lovecraft is well-known for his racism and xenophobia, and Red Rock is risible reading and is justifiably disdained. LaValle retold the story from the viewpoint of a Black man and put right everything that was wrong about it. I wrote a review some time back for MTR Network, which you can read here. P. Djèlí Clark may have written a story to knock LaValle off the top of my list, though. Ring Shout is as good a read as you can get, but it’s not a comfortable one: nor should it be.


The setting is Macon, Georgia, 1922. It is Jim Crow South. Our lead character is Maryse Boudreaux; she hunts monsters called Ku Kluxes, and she has a sword enchanted with the spirits of kings, chiefs, and slaves from centuries past to aid her in her quest. Their pain, anger, and hate fuels the sword, igniting it with righteous fury and the desire for retribution. P. Djèlí Clark creates an alternative history where the premiere screening of D.W. Griffith’s movie The Birth of a Nation calls into this world demons from another dimension who use White people’s hatred of Black people as a way to gain a foothold on Earth. There’s the Klan, and then there’s the Ku Kluxes: both separate but connected. Maryse and her friends roam the county and kill as many Ku Kluxes as they can. A wonderfully rounded-out supporting cast includes Sadie, a sharpshooter who carries her Winchester (Winnie) with her wherever she goes; Chef, a cheerfully queer WW1 veteran who’s the group’s explosives expert; Emma, a German girl who spouts Marxist philosophy but knows what it’s about; and Nana Jean, the community’s matriarch who is pure Gullah from start to finish. Clark doesn’t need to translate her dialogue for us; we need to do that for ourselves.

Then there’s the Aunties: Ondone, Margaret, and Jadine — they seem to be from the world the Ku Kluxes came from, but enlisted Maryse when she was a child to be their champion. They appear to Maryse in dreams and visions, helping when they can, but knowing that whatever happens, it’s Maryse who gets to make the final choices. Traumatised by the events which took the lives of her family, Maryse and her friends find themselves in a race against time. Butcher Clyde, who describes himself as Ku Klux management, intends to use Maryse as a pawn to bring an even greater evil into the world, with yet another screening of The Birth of a Nation, this time using Maryse’s lover Michael George as bait.


The Shout of the title is a chant and ritual that helps create Mama’s Water, a bootlegged liquor that’s potent in magic and mysticism. Nana Jean oversees its production, and it earns the community enough money to keep everyone going. Clark is brilliant in how he allows us to catch up with Gullah traditions, but yet keeps the story moving at such a pace that you’ll be hard-pressed not to finish it in one or two sittings. As I said earlier, Ring Shout is not a comfortable read, for many reasons. It’s a horror novel first and foremost, and the violence is frightening but creative. Like Victor LaValle’s novella, this is a story about Black people living and dying in a world where White people want them dead. It’s about how Black people survive despite the threats against them. There are no White saviours in Clarke’s story, nor should there be. When Butcher Clyde tries to use Maryse’s rage to end White domination, but bring a greater evil to power, Maryse’s choice is the result of centuries of Black repression. It’s powerful, intense, bloody, and cathartic. It’s also a beautiful thing to read.

P. Djèlí Clark has written something majestic. I read a previous novella, The Black God’s Drums, and was very much taken by it. He has another, The Haunting of Tram Car 015, which I will read very soon. I’m also looking forward to his debut novel, A Master of Djinn, which is due out in 2021. He’s a writer to watch out for.

P. Djèlí Clark